


mistletoe

by ariabrook



Series: Lyra Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mistletoe, Platonic Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariabrook/pseuds/ariabrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has covered Skyhold in mistletoe. But as long as it's unavoidable, why not enjoy it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> “but there's no mistletoe in thedas—”
> 
> shh. i know. just pretend.

It was all Sera's fault. The elven woman had gotten it into her head to hang mistletoe all over Skyhold, everywhere from the kitchens to the main hall. She had even managed to attach a sprig to Cole's hat. In the twenty four hours since “the infestation”, as Cassandra was calling it, Lyra had witnessed a number of encounters.  
  
The Seeker herself had stumbled under a branch near Varric, and after a loud bout of shouting and refusals, consented to peck him on the forehead. (“Where's Hawke when you need her,” he'd muttered.) Krem had been cornered by a few of the kitchen maids, but he seemed to enjoy himself. Solas had flat out refused to kiss Vivienne, whose sentiments were just as icy. Even Scout Harding, debatably the sneakiest person next to perhaps Leliana, had been unable to avoid the influences of mistletoe. Iron Bull had to get down on one knee so that she could kiss his cheek.  
  
Lyra herself had been ambushed by a sprig attached to the chandelier above the war table. At first, she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, but Josephine's gasp and subsequent blush gave it away.  
  
“What is it?” she'd asked, genuinely concerned.  
  
Josephine, still speechless, had pointed above at the branch, affixed to one arm of the chandelier by way of a messy bundle of twine. Leliana had stifled a giggle, and Cullen turned redder than Josephine.  
  
“Rules are rules, Inquisitor,” Leliana had said.  
  
Sighing, Lyra had pecked each of them quickly on the lips. Leliana's smile grew, Josephine let out a bout of nervous, but pleased laughter, and Cullen's cheeks had achieved a deep color of scarlet. She had wanted his kiss to go on longer, as it wasn't exactly a secret that they were seeing each other, but both of them were still getting used to public displays of affection. And the last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.  
  
But now, with a few berries pinned to her collar, she was hoping for another chance in a more intimate setting.  
  
She shivered against the cold winter wind as she crossed the stone battlements to Cullen's tower. One of the unfortunate side effects of living at Skyhold was that the winters were harsh, and this one was no different. The other drawbacks were more interpersonal, such as having to deal with eccentric foreign dignitaries or surly prisoners. However, she looked forward to conversations in her commander's tower—because their conversations often turned into something else. The warm air of the tower hit her as she opened the door and walked in, and she sighed in relief. No matter what could be said about Skyhold's location and the subsequent weather, at least the castle's insides were easy to keep at a toasty temperature.  
  
Cullen was standing by his bookshelf, presumably perusing the collection, but he turned his head at the sound of the door. As soon as he saw her, his lips curved upward into a smile, and Lyra felt her heart stutter in her chest. Maker's breath. Ever time she saw that smile, no matter how many times she'd seen it before, it sent her into a tizzy.  
  
“Lyra,” he said, and just those two syllables were enough to make her weak in the knees. She mentally shook herself. She prided herself on her strength, was the leader of one of the most powerful organizations in Thedas, but here she was, swooning like a scullery maid.  
  
“Cullen. I was hoping to find you here.” She took a few steps forward.  
  
“Where else would I be?” He asked.  
  
“Oh, I don't know, out fighting dragons or something.”  
  
He chuckled. “That's your job, love.” He closed the distance between them, and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. She loved how comforting he always smelled, and how soft he was despite the armor. She felt his arms around her waist, felt his nose in the crook of her neck, and wished that they could stay like this forever. These moments were always the most relaxing of her day.  
  
But, eventually, the embrace ended as it always had to. She still stayed close to him, her arms gently around his back. He smiled at her again, this time bringing his right hand to rest against her cheek. Lyra watched his face, unable to suppress a grin of her own.  
  
“What's this?” A pensive little wrinkle appeared between Cullen's eyebrows as he moved his hand to touch the mistletoe at her collar.  
  
“Nothing, just a little snippet of the plant that turned you so red at the war table this morning.” Indeed, Cullen had begun to blush scarlet again, an act that turned Lyra's smile from sweet to smug. Her brother had once told Lyra that she was ‘insufferable’ when she was teasing. She had not thought the description apt until now. “I did not want to show favoritism in front of the other advisors, but I must admit...” She moved her hands to the back of his neck. He shivered, just slightly, but that movement was enough to send a little shock of warmth throughout her entire body. “I must admit that I wanted a little... more.”  
  
Cullen's eyes met hers, and the look in them sent another tingling feeling along her skin. She was sure that she, too, was blushing now.  
  
“Well, then, my lady,” he replied, his voice low and husky, “who am I to deny you the pleasure?”  
  
He tilted his head and leaned in, and as soon as his lips met hers, Lyra's eyes slid shut with bliss. Cullen's mouth was warm and soft, and his thumb stroked her cheek as his lips moved against hers. She felt lightheaded. A pleased sound, somewhere between a moan and a hum, reverberated in her throat. Cullen gently guided her head to the side and deepened the kiss. Now, her hands were around his neck, her fingers threaded through his hair. His tongue traced along her lips, and she opened them, letting out another hum as she did so. The tingling feeling had spread to her whole body.  
  
Eventually, regrettably, Cullen pulled away, and despite herself, Lyra couldn't help a little annoyed sigh at his absence. She leaned forward to press a kiss against the scar at the corner of his mouth.  
  
He responded by maneuvering her body so she was pressed—not uncomfortably, but firmly—against his bookshelf. Gently, he tilted her chin up and kissed her neck, his stubble scratching pleasantly against her skin. As his lips moved down her neck, pausing to suck at the base of her throat, she could no longer suppress the sounds she'd been containing. She let out a moan, and felt the vibration of his low, humming response against her ribs, and lower, in the tingling sensation between her legs.  
  
“Cullen...” She breathed, in a cross between a moan and a whisper.  
  
She felt his hands trail up over her body, tracing her breasts but moving away even as she attempted to bring him closer. Finally, his fingers found the collar of her shirt. Within a few seconds, he had unclasped the mistletoe. He pulled away, leaving her panting and a little cold, and held the sprig up.  
  
“It's not such a bad plant, is it?”  
  
Lyra's reply was to grab the mistletoe from Cullen's hand and throw it haphazardly into a corner of the room.  
  
“Forget about it, and come back and kiss me instead.”  
  
And so he did.


End file.
